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"Oh, you are incorrigible!" says Doatie, leaning back in her chair in turn, and tilting backward her little flower-like face, that looks as if even the most harmless falsehood must be unknown to it.,

"How melancholy!" says Mona, with a nearer approach to brightness than she has shown all day.,

"Harder even than you know. He is engaged to one of the dearest little girls possible, but of course if this affair terminates in favor of—" he hesitates palpably, then says with an effort—"my cousin, the engagement comes to an end.",

Then she knows she is speaking to "the Australian," (as she has heard him called), and, lifting her head, examines his face with renewed interest. Not a pleasant face by any means, yet not altogether bad, as she tells herself in the generosity of her heart.

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From the hills the scent of the heather is wafted towards him, filling him with a subtle keen sense of youth and gladness and the absolute joy of living. His good dog is at his heels; a boy—procured from some neighboring cabin, and warranted not to wear out, however long the journey to be undertaken or how many miles to travel—carries his bag beside him.,

When he had said this he lifted Mīka´pi in his arms and took him to a place where there was thick mud, and there he took great handfuls of the mud and plastered it on the wounds, and while he was putting on the mud he sang a medicine song. Then he carried Mīka´pi to a place where there were many service berries, and he broke off great branches of the fruit and gave them to him, saying, "Eat; my brother, eat." He kept breaking off branches full of large, ripe berries until Mīka´pi was full and could eat no more.,

Rodney's heart throbs with passionate relief, yet shame covers him; for he himself, one day, had given her that heather, tied, as he remembers, with that selfsame grass; and she, poor child, had kept it ever since. She had treasured it, and laid it aside, apart from all other objects, among her most sacred possessions, as a thing beloved and full of tender memories; and his had been the hand to ruthlessly lay bare this hidden secret of her soul.,

"You?" says Mona, with extreme hauteur and an unpleasant amount of well-feigned astonishment. She does not deign to go to meet him, or even turn her head altogether in his direction, but just throws a swift and studiously unfriendly glance at him from under her long lashes.